


Burning Pile

by girlpda



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Organized Crime, Street fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlpda/pseuds/girlpda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little advice for aspiring fires, you'll get put out if you don't get a little wild.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ghosting

The pain that spread throughout his lower rib cage was white hot and he could already hear Phinks scolding him in the future, “That was sloppy, Fei.” he’d say. “You should’ve been able to dodge that kick.” he’d say. He staggered for a moment before regaining his balance and clearing his mind. He could visualize the way the blonde’s face would scrunch up at his retorts as he danced around his opponent. Sweat dripped into black eyes and he winced at the sting. What Feitan lacked for in size he made up for with brute strength and careful calculation. He shook his hands then straightened his wrists and threw his all into his next right hook to end the fight, he wasn’t in the mood for dragging things out tonight and his patience was running thin.

The crowd’s jeering and taunting stopped when his opponent’s massive body hit the ground with a loud thud. He knew Phinks would chastise him for that as well, telling him that it was important to give the crowd a show before ending things. They’d never watch his fights if they knew they’d be over as quickly as they started. He was always contradicting himself. “Don’t let them hit you, but don’t end the fight too quickly. Paint yourself as the underdog, but don’t undersell yourself.” Though of course he’d say it made sense. “There’s an art to fighting. If you just stopped fucking around and came to train with me you’d understand how to give the gamblers what they wanted.” 

Phinks would say something about how Feitan should stop wasting all his time with games and that they would have to perfect his personal dance if he wanted to start taking fighting seriously. He didn’t though. Fighting was simply a side job to supplement his income from the job he actually enjoyed. That didn't matter to Phinks though, not with his thick skull. He’d heard it all and he knew he would hear it again before the night was over.

Feitan pushed those thoughts from his mind as he made his way to the back of the shop where Machi was sitting, ready with disinfectant and bandages. In the last fight he’d once again torn open the splits on his knuckles. They were more irritating than painful and he had never allowed enough time between fights to let them properly heal. Machi chastised him for it, but bandaged him up every time nonetheless. A hiss fell through clenched teeth when the alcohol made contact with his raw flesh.

Machi never commented on his performance, and for that he was grateful. She probably already knew he would get enough shit from everyone else that felt the need to discuss his downfalls with him. Which, not surprising to him, was quite a few people. She never made small talk while she worked on patching up his minor injuries and he tipped her well for it. She worked quickly and thoroughly, cleaning up all traces of the fight. Feitan was handed a small towel and he ran it through his sweat soaked hair before moving into the back room to get changed.

The cold air of a late summer night filled his lungs as he stepped out of the noisy auto shop into the street. Feitan pulled his jacket around him tighter before reaching into the pocket to retrieve his phone and a pack of cigarettes. He shot a quick text to Shalnark, letting him know he’d be late getting home and made for the street that led to the longest route to his shitty apartment.

Feitan tasted the fire in his cigarette for the first time in a long time that night.

\----

  

“Why can't we just take some from your parents? Or, you could ask Illumi to get it for you! I’m sure he wouldn't mind doing it…” Gon’s voice trailed off, knowing Killua wouldn’t listen to any of his suggestions anyways.

“That’s not any fun. We have to get it ourselves or it won’t count.” Killua stated when he grabbed Gon’s wrist, as if he was worried that the other would turn on his heels and leave any moment. It was the one thing Killua wanted to accomplish that summer and Gon would be damned to hell if he prevented it. Teenagers were supposed to do dumb shit and Gon would have to let loose at some point in his life.

“Leorio would get us some no problem! I’m sure we wouldn't even need to ask. I have a key to his and Pika’s place if you want we can go over there now!” Gon was pleading at this point, he’d say anything to get out of the trouble Killua was dragging him into. He knew, however, that Killua wouldn’t let him leave. Not after he’d already agreed to it. It was ridiculous the way Gon was acting, it was like Killua had asked him to rob a store or mug someone.

Killua led Gon down a crowded and lively street. To passersby Gon must have looked like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he thought. Gon objected to each store Killua suggested. One was too busy, the other’s cashier looked too angry, and Killua was almost ready to give up. He turned to stare down the other when Gon raised a hand and pointed down an empty street to a small liquor store. “That one looks okay.” he whispered.

Killua practically tore Gon’s hand off as he ran down the street the other had pointed out.

The pair waited in the parking lot for nearly an hour waiting for someone to come by. Killua watched as a small man made his way down the street towards them. His black hair was messily parted down the middle, and he wore a scarf that covered over half of his face. From the looks of it he had to have been in his late 20’s or early 30’s, but Killua based that solely off the vibe he got from the man. Nothing about his features lended to him being a day over 19.

He had to be old enough to buy alcohol.

Killua swallowed the uncertainty that rose in the back of his throat and pushed himself off of the curb he’d been sitting on to approach the man. 

He’d barely gotten the first few words of his request out before the shorter man cut him off

“How old’re you brats anyways?” He asked while craning his neck to get a look at Gon, who was practically cowering behind Killua. “Your parents know where you are?” Killua rolled his eyes at that.

“Obviously not, do you think we’d still be here if they did?”

The man chuckled as he grabbed the bills from the younger boy’s hands and made his way into the liquor store. He’d get them what they wanted, but definitely not the swill the blonde boy asked for. If they thought they were old enough to drink then they were old enough to drink something worthwhile, he thought as he twirled a bottle of his favorite brandy between his palms on the way to the cashier.


	2. Little Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How long until he sees that I need this?"

Feitan cast off the bloody rag after wiping his hands clean. He stripped down to his boxers, discarding his clothes alongside the piece of fabric he’d used to clean off his skin. He’d always make sure to leave behind any evidence of his involvement in these things knowing his employer would have the room spotless by morning. It was far easier than trying to get cleaned up at home, and this way he wouldn't have to worry about getting his victim’s pesky DNA all over his furniture.

“Did you get it?” the taller man asked him, without so much as a hint of doubt in his voice. Feitan had always gotten what he was asked for. You’d think after as many times as he had been through this the younger man would’ve learned to trust Feitan to get what was needed without even asking for it.

Feitan scoffed at the question and snatched the offered clothes, grunting a hardly intelligible answer as he shoved his short yet muscular legs into the ill-fitting pants. Clean ugly clothes were better than walking home in blood soaked clothes, he supposed. Much to his dismay, more questions were thrown his way as he made for the door.

For the first time that night he looked his employer in the eyes, something he never quite trust himself doing. Feitan wasn’t one for exaggerating but the man was, quite frankly, stunning.  


He had raven slicked back hair, but it didn’t look stiff like the way Phinks’s was. It moved when he walked and occasionally it would fall in his face, and he would lift a slender hand to push it back into place. He had long fingers, like a pianist and every time Feitan saw them he felt a small spark in the farthest reaches of his memory. His eyes were stormy grey and always inquisitive, it made Feitan feel like he was being interrogated anytime he spoke to the man. The rest of his features were soft, inviting even. He’d made sure to leave the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and Feitan wasn’t sure if it was for Chrollo’s own comfort or because he knew what it did to people. Feitan cleared his throat before trying for something more straightforward than his previous attempts. “I said, the people you’re looking for are hiding in the warehouse on Forty-Second street.”

-

“I’m bad luck, you know, it seems to follow me everywhere that I go,” he said, coughing his way through the last of the amber liquid filling his glass. “and don't look at me like that, like you pity me. I don’t need any sympathy. I’m just thinking out loud is all.”

Phinks had been in her bar enough for her to know if she stood there any longer she’d end up coaching him through another breakdown about his roommate. His roommate who knew just how to push his buttons and send him back to her counter.

“Just leave me here, I’ll be fine.”

But Pakunoda knew better than that, if he was here he needed someone to vent to and as long as the rest of the seats at her bar were empty and he kept buying liquor, she was happy to be that for him. The fact that she kept standing there was encouragement enough for Phinks.

“How long until he sees that I need this?”

-

“What do you say I take you out for a drink?” Chrollo asked as he typed out a message on his cell phone, his smile warm and genuine. “We’ve only been working together for months, let me treat you.”

"You're acting like we work in an office together. And this doesn’t exactly look like a cubicle.” Feitan replied, motioning to the gore and sinew in the room behind them. Curt and to the point as he always was. It was fun for Chrollo, trying to crack this one. It was a challenge. As charming as he was, he was used to people opening up the moment he showed the slightest hint of interest in them.

Feitan was something else altogether. From what little information he could dig up, he knew the kid was a fighter. In spirit and profession. He had worked with a few of Chrollo’s colleagues in the past, that being how Chrollo got in contact with him. He was a fighter with knack for dragging information out of unwilling informants. No birthday, no parents, and no records spanning back farther than a few years.

Chrollo was nothing if not resourceful and he couldn’t find a damn thing about the other. If Feitan even had a past it wasn’t something that would be found out, even with the resources Chrollo had. He was lost in thought when he heard the small raspy voice side him answer.

“Only if I pick the place and you’re paying.”

Chrollo was all too quick to answer in the affirmative and he found himself being dragged into the city’s center.  
-

“You know when you said you got to pick, I was expecting it to be because you wanted to avoid a place like this.” Chrollo said with a slight lilt in his voice, the heady scent of his wine was enough to cloud his mind. “Not because you wanted to be taken here.”

“What's the problem boss?” Feitan asked as he motioned to the bartender to fill his glass once again. He downed the contents just as quickly as the last few and flicked his wrist once more to have it filled. “Feeling cheap tonight?”

“I’ve hired you more than enough to know your time is never cheap”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll get somewhere with this eventually i promise next chapter will have Plot. maybe.


End file.
